


An Offer

by Diviana



Series: A Social Contract [3]
Category: DCU
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 06:49:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8479387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diviana/pseuds/Diviana
Summary: Dick and Jason continue the act and attempt to recruit another.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Jaydick Week 3  
>  **Day 5:** _Masquerade_

Tim stood near the entry of the ballroom. Plastering on a polite smile, Tim greeted guests with a handshakes and acknowledged acquaintances in the distance with a nod of his head. The large space made up for the numerous guests in dramatic attire. Although some wore designer clothing and a simple mask, Tim counted double in eye-catching color and gemstones. In contrast to the attendees, Tim wore a classic suit a red mask. Similarly Bruce had a gray one that matched his eyes. _Dick…._

Tim pinched his temples. The migraine fermenting in his skull intensified from a combination of his sleeplessness and Dick’s pissing contest. Tim sighed. Scanning the crowd, he caught sight of Dick. He wore a blue and white suit that typically would classified as a fashion-disaster except it strangely matched Dick. What stood out was the bronze accented, horned owl mask.

Dick went from petty jabs to whatever this was now. Recalling the headlines spreading through the Gotham gossip rags, Tim’s temples throbbed.

 _What is he thinking?_ Tim internally groaned.

The ‘leaked’ pictures of Dick and patches of Jason with explicit captions made Tim’s sleep drop further into the negative hours. Both from the man-power needed to oversee the Wayne Enterprises P.R. team and from the disconcerting images that popped into his head whenever he nodded off.

Cassie joked that caffeine made up his blood, but at this point he couldn’t remember what water tasted like. Inheriting the company seemed great until one factored in managing Wayne Enterprises, covering for Bat-related nonsense, and avoiding a takeover attempt curiosity of Damian every other week.

 _Speak of the devil_ , Tim thought as he opened his eyes to Damian.

The seventeen year old looked remarkably like Bruce without actual being him. Despite necessity of maintaining a secret identity, Damian barely put enough into his civilian act. This was more apparent now with Bruce fully in his aging playboy persona and Damian petulant distant.

A dagger twisted in his gray matter. Bruce seemed to be pissing off everyone this month. First Dick now Damian, Tim felt his veins pulse painfully at the thought anger ring growing. Tim bit the inside of his cheek. _I should do damage control._ Pulling out his cellphone, he looked up Barbara’s number as he walked off to the side.

* * *

“Subtle isn’t in your dictionary, is it?” Damian scoffed.

Jason smirked, stretching out the fabric of his cloak. His arms extended revealed a jagged hem that mimicked Batman’s cape. He winked and bend one arm to cover half of his face. Deepening his voice, Jason growled, “I am the night.”

Damian clicked his tongue. Jason chuckled. From the corner of his eye Jason noticed the proverbial vein in Bruce’s forehead twitching.

If Dick hadn’t criticized Jason’s other costume of being too much, there might be more purple and green. Jason currently wore a black slacks with a charcoal dress shirt. The outline of a bat embroidered on it. His mask took the crude shape of a bat.

Dick appeared from the left, leaning closely to Jason. His face filled with a slight red flush. Jason stabilized him and pulled him up right.

Nuzzling Dick’s neck, Jason chided, “Don’t have too much fun without me.”

“Who abandoned the hounds, Maybird,” Dick complained.

He dropped his head on Jason’s shoulder. Dick shifted more of his weight toward Jason as if he wanted to melt into Jason. In the periphery, Jason saw flashes of cameras and Damian’s nose crinkle. Feeding the fire, Jason kissed the top of Dick’s forehead.

Jason stage-whispered, “As cute as this is, you know you can out drink me.”

Straightening up, Dick chuckled, “Killjoy.”

“Hmm,” a moderately familiar voice piped up, “It seems all the rumors were false.”

“Hello, Julia, multitasking I see,” Dick remarked.

A smartphone and stylus in hand, Julia replied, “The press never rests.” 

Smoothly transiting, Julia said, “So I see the two of you have made up.”

“Were we fighting?” Jason asked, pulling Dick closer.

Dick said, “The bar.”

“Ooh, I forgot. Dick’s gifted in **_many_** ways,” Jason insinuated, taking in Dick’s figure.

Guiding Jason’s line of sight upwards, Dick chastised, “Mason.”

“I, for one, am cheering on your relationship. What do you think of your brother dating, Damian,” Julia asked. A tint of red appeared on her ears.

A warm emotion bubbled in Jason’s chest as he watched Damian’s jaw tighten. His viridian iris darkened. As Damian pondered his options, Bruce wormed his way through the crowd to them.

“Hello, Julia. I hope you’re enjoying yourself,” Bruce greeted, gesturing for one of the servers to come.

Held her hands up in protest, she said, “On the clock, I can’t.”

“Ah, I hope you enjoy the other festivities then.” Bruce winked, picking up a glass of champagne.

Julia chuckled, “Now Damian you never answered my question.”

As fun as watching Damian squirm in his skin is, Jason loudly cleared his throat, “Mhm.”

The group of three turned their eyes to Jason. Releasing Dick, Jason stepped toward Damian. A moment later, he undid his cloak and threw it over Damian’s shoulder. He stared Bruce straight in the eye and smiled. He felt Damian discretely elbowing in the side. Jason swallowed.

Dramatically, Jason bellowed, “He sort looks like Batman, don’t you think Dick?”

Dick leaned away and made a show of observing Damian. Dick shook his head. Before Bruce could change the subject, Dick said, “Nah, not tall enough…”

“Wait,” Dick interrupted himself, “how do you know what Batman looks like? What bad thing could’ve you done to get on his list.”

Jason quipped, “Only naughty list I’m on is yours.”

Bruce cleared his throat. Jason ducked his head and mimed bashfulness. Dick apologized but chuckled as he did so.

Damian switched from discretely elbowing to digging it just above his kidney. Jason pulled the cloak off of Damian, using the same action to drop a note into the pocket of Damian’s slacks. He put back on the cloak and rubbed his side.

* * *

Jason rubbed his hands together. The cold Gotham air kissed them, leaching away his warmth. Warehouses always seem to be sweltering or freezing by design. Calloused hands wrapped around his, Dick’s heat spread welcomingly into Jason’s fingers. Dick cupped Jason’s hands and blew hot air onto them. Dick guided them into the pockets of coat.

“Forgot your gloves?” Dick asked.

Nodding, Jason said, in awe and fear, “Don’t you have any?”

Dick shrugged. “I grew up in a circus. You get used to performing under weird conditions.”

“So that’s why you can fight in literally nothing,” Jason remarked.

Then he grimaced, “Pixie shorts.”

The memory of running around as Robin made phantom goosebumps rise on his legs. Jason glared unforgivingly at Dick. Squeezing Jason’s fingers, Dick chuckled.

“I was a kid,” Dick explained.

“Discowing.”

“Don’t act like I have the monopoly on bad costume choices,” Dick hissed.

The way his lips turned up at the corners and the wrinkles around his eyes reflected his playfulness. If anyone average person watched them, as intended, they would appear to be a sappy couple exploring a warehouse. Except, there wasn’t an average person observing them.

“We all learned from him so stop skulking in the shadows,” Jason stated, looking at the shadows to his left.

Shadows breed frequently in abandoned warehouses, filling in the corners with a thick darkness. Warehouses usually bare made perfect meeting spots for criminals. No windows or hiding places for listening devices.

Damian stepped out in full Robin attire. Jason stopped short of rolling his eyes, Dick and Jason opted to wear civvies. Jason wore a mid-thigh length coat and dark jeans. Dick, incredibly, wore what appeared to be a thicker than average windbreaker and yoga pants. Even with hidden weapons, civvies made Jason feel uncomfortably unprotected if he dressed like Dick it would be like walking around without his skin.

“What are you doing?” Damian growled, staring at their arms.

Jason said, matter-of-factly, “Waiting for you.”

“Drop the act,” Damian stated.

Releasing Jason’s hands, Dick said, “We’re not here to argue about that.”

A moment later, Dick dangled a set of winter gloves in front of Jason’s face. He pulled his out of Dick’s pockets to grab them. Tugging them on, Jason accused, “You had these all along.”

“Yup.”

“Do you tell the circus story to everyone?”

Rubbing the back of head, Dick said, “Whether I’m used to it or not, it’s always a good idea to protect the tools of your trade.”

Damian cleared his throat, interrupting the conversation. Jason and Dick turned to the noise. His mouth formed a flat line that emphasized the narrowing of his eyes.

“Don’t tell me, Grayson, this pathetic performance is the reason you wanted to see me,” Damian criticized, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Little D, it’s starting to hurt that you don’t believe me, but that’s not –“

Jason growled, “Look kid. It might’ve started off as a game, but –“

Jason inhaled. He blinked. Dick peered at him. Jason diverted his gaze. Shifting his weight to his heels, Jason shoved his hands into the coat pockets.

He finished lamely, “He’s the perfect headrest and personal heater.”

Internally, Jason cringed from his acting. He understood and accepted the premise of to trick one’s enemies one must trick one’s allies, but when that trickery involves endless, embarrassing confessions of love. Jason clenched his fists. Mustering his determination, Jason covered his mouth and did his best to act bashful.

Ignoring everything, Damian interrogated, “Grayson. Are you planning on forcing Father to retire?”

“What? No. Why does everyone keep thinking that?” Dick blurted.

“What are you planning?”

Dick ambiguously began, “Bruce needs a reminder—“

“He needs some sense knocked into him,” Jason interrupted.

Dick contextualized, “He’s getting riskier with his solo missions, and you know that.”

“He’ll refuse to retire until every bone in his body is broken twice at least,” Dick continued.

Rubbing his temple, Dick finished, “I’m trying to make sure that moment isn’t when he’s dead.”

Pointing to Jason with a jerk of his head, Damian questioned, “What is your motive?”

“Pissing off Bruce is my hobby,” Jason teased.

Dick glared at him.

Jason corrected, “His late mid-life crisis, involves him interfering with my operations. He gets his life together. I get my life back.”

“So what do you say?” Dick asked, extending his hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this was late. I apologize but probably won't get around to the last of this for another week or two.


End file.
